Someone to Romance - Mary Balogh Page 0,81

his shoulders. Her thumbs were caressing the sides of his neck. “You must promise to do it right, then,” she said.

He tipped back his head and drew a deep breath before looking down into her face again. He had not expected this tonight. Good God, he had not. Not ever, actually. He noticed as he had on a previous occasion that when her lips were parted the top one curled slightly upward, seeming soft and moist and irresistibly kissable.

He lowered his head and set the tip of his tongue to that lip. Her hands clenched hard about his shoulders.

He moved his tongue lower and slid it into her mouth. She gasped and then made a low sound in her throat, and his arms came hard about her and hers about him and his mouth covered hers and she sucked his tongue deeper. He moved his hands down her back to cup her bottom and snuggle her against his growing erection. She gasped cool air around his tongue, and he was as sure as he could be that she had never done anything like this before.

For a while, after all, he had forgotten how close to being public this seemingly secluded spot was. They might be interrupted at any moment. Reluctantly he loosened his hold on her and drew back his head.

They gazed at each other.

“Do you wish me to apply to the Duke of Netherby for your hand?” he asked. “Or to your mother? To both?”

He watched amusement creep into her eyes. “To Avery,” she said. “It is not necessary, but I cannot resist finding out how he will receive you.”

“And if he does not receive me kindly?” he asked.

“I will marry you anyway,” she said.

“Would that cause a rift between you?” he asked.

“No, not at all,” she said. “He knows he has no authority over me. He does not want to have any. But if someone applies to him for an audience, he will grant it, and afterward he will give his opinion. Then, as like as not, he will yawn.”

“I begin to like the man,” he said.

“I love him,” she told him.

“And do many men apply for an audience with him?” he asked her. “With the object of asking for your hand, that is?”

“There have been some,” she said. “Most recently, it was Mr. Rochford.”

“Ah,” he said. “And how was he received?”

“With courtesy,” she said. “Avery withheld his blessing but not his permission. I do not need his permission. He told Mr. Rochford he would grant the blessing at least upon his proposing marriage to me after Mr. Rochford Senior is officially declared Earl of Lyndale.”

“You believe your brother wishes for the match?” he asked. “As your female relatives seem to do?”

“Avery rather hopes I do not marry Mr. Rochford,” she said. “He believes he has too many teeth.”

He grinned at her and then threw back his head and laughed aloud. “I do like your brother,” he said. “I wonder what he thinks of me. I tremble at the thought.”

“We will find out,” she said. “Gabriel.”

“Jessica,” he said softly. “Jess. Jessie.”

“No one has ever called me Jessie,” she said.

“Then it will be my name for you,” he said. “Unless you abhor it.”

“I do not. Not when you say it,” she said. She drew breath but paused briefly before continuing. “Gabriel, who raped your neighbor’s daughter? Who killed his son? Was it the same person?”

She was going to marry him. Soon. By special license. She had a right to know. There was much to be confronted in the coming weeks and months.

“Yes, I believe so,” he said.

“Who?”

“Manley Rochford,” he said.

She closed her eyes and inhaled slowly and exhaled before opening them.

“I am sure in the case of the rape,” he said. “I went to call upon Penelope Ginsberg—Mrs. Clark now—and her father while I was away.”

“It was they who were your neighbors?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said. “It was Manley Rochford, while my cousin Philip Rochford looked on. They were both drunk, though what happened was not out of character for either of them. She was not their first victim. I am less sure about the murder, though I have no doubt that it was one of them.”

“He is coming to town soon?” she asked.

“Almost certainly within the next few weeks,” he said.

“And he will recognize you?”

“Again,” he said, “almost certainly. I cannot imagine I will have any difficulty recognizing him.”

“How long does it take to acquire a special license?” she asked.

“I have no idea,” he said, “never having needed

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